


Ashes to ashes.

by FantasyFailures



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Assassination, Dark Brotherhood Questline, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Murder, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 21:51:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17568596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasyFailures/pseuds/FantasyFailures
Summary: Just a short insight into the mind of one of my listeners. I might be posting a longer story with her, maybe with a romantic focus, if people are interested in it, which is why I'm posting this.





	Ashes to ashes.

She hadn't always liked to kill. 

Then again, she hadn't tried it until she got to Skyrim. 

Now, the sick glee of recieving a contract, the perverse euphoria that follows after slitting a poor souls throat- they are old comforts. As one may hold a childhood blanket or old friend dear to their heart, the memories of her killings are valued greatly. She relives them at night, watching the widening of eyes a moment before they shut, hearing the gurgling of a throat that is choking on blood, feeling the bliss she knows only comes from a kill.

She was born for this, she thinks. It must have been fate that had her stumble into the Aretino residence after too much sujamma in the cornerclub. Must have been fate that had her feeling just the slightest bit sorry for the boy inside, and slaughtering the hag at the orphanage just a few days later.

And it must have been fate, she thinks, that had Astrid recruit her, rather than just slitting her throat.

'A kill for a kill', she'd said.

Not that it matters, considering that in the end, she had slit Astrid's throat.

Astrid had been her friend, once. One of few. The others, too.

Sometimes, when she has drunk too much to remember the clear detail of a kill, she sees her friends instead. She sees the old sanctuary, before the fire, and sees Veezara swinging his twin blades. She watches Festus fumbling with a potion bottle, Gabriella storming through the door after a kill with blood on her cheek and danger in her eyes.

Sometimes, she sees them obscured with smoke, their image hazy, but she can still make out the shape of Arnbjorn recoiling when an arrow strikes his shoulder, Veezara falling into flames from the strike of imperial steel, Astrid setting herself alight and plunging a dagger stained with nightshade into her flesh over and over, surrounded by a ring of flickering candles as the ceiling above her begins to cave in.

She sees her family, her brotherhood, collapsing before her eyes, and wakes up feeling empty somehow. 

She'll ask for a contract, after, as though her arrow will fly through the air and take all her guilt and grief with it. 

It never does.

**Author's Note:**

> If anybody has any suggestions for anything they'd like to read let me know! Can't guarantee I will write everything suggested but I might lmao.


End file.
